Page 14 of The Golem of Mala Lubovnya
“Why not?”
“It’s wrong, Emet. Men cannot lie with other men.”
Emet knew he wasn’t very smart. Statements like this bewildered him. “Why not?” he repeated.
“It’s wrong. An abomination. A grave transgression.”
“But… why?”
“I don’t know!” Jakob shouted loud enough that the startled goats ran away. “I ask myself this. Why would God make me this way if it is wrong? I pray—every morning and night I pray, Emet. I beg God to help me change, to stop these thoughts that linger in my head and these desires that kindle in my heart. But he forsakes me.”
“You’re a good man, Jakob. You are kind and clever. Surely God must love you.”
Jakob shook his head. “Do you feel desire too, Emet?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t understand! You were created by Rabbi Eleazar, who is a pious man, and God gave you life. I was created by my parents, who are good and pious as well. And yet we have these… appetites. It’s as if I was able to chew only the flesh of swine. It’s forbidden, and I’d starve. Iamstarving.”
Emet moved closer. After a brief hesitation, he settled his hand on Jakob’s wool-clad shoulder. “You could lie with me, if you like. If my body allows it. I know I’m terrible, but I would try to be gentle. And I am not a man.”
“You’re certainly not a woman. And… I think of you as a man, Emet. Anyone who knew you would think of you that way.” He stepped back a little, allowing Emet’s hand to drop from his shoulder. He tilted his head to look up at the gray sky. Snowflakes landed on his eyelashes, making him blink. “It’s late. We have to hurry.” He turned his back to Emet and the goats and began to march toward town.
The next daywas not Shabbos, but Jakob didn’t come to the shul to fetch Emet, and Emet worried over this all morning. Maybe it was only the weather that discouraged Jakob. The snow had stopped, but the air was very cold. Everyone who walked down the street moved quickly, bundled in layers of bulky clothing. Jakob might have stayed at home today, where he could huddle by the fire with his family. Emet hoped so. He didn’t want to imagine Jakob working alone on the top of the hill, too disgusted by Emet’s offer to face him again.
He considered what Jakob had told him about desiring men and about such a desire being wrong. Emet was only a simple creature made of clay, and he didn’t understand. It seemed to him if two people cared for one another—if they wanted to make each other feel good—such feelings were far better than disgust or hatred. Hadn’t Jakob told Emet that being kind to others, treating them as you wished to be treated, was a mitzvah, a blessing?
The attic was so lonely. Emet wrapped himself in old curtains and told himself some of the stories he’d learned from Jakob. He was in the middle of Noah’s tale—and trying to imagine what all those animals had looked like, crammed onto a boat—when he heard voices from the street below. He hurried to the window and saw a group of people gathered around a fancy carriage that he recognized as Gospodin Novák’s. Novák himself was standing on the cobbles beside two other beardless men. Someone was shouting.
Emet had never before left the attic without Rabbi Eleazer’s company. But he didn’t like the yelling. What if someone was in danger? He dropped the curtains onto the floor and ran to the door. It wasn’t locked. Even if it had been, he could have easily pulled it from its frame. He thundered down the stairs, his feet landing only on every third or fourth tread. He rushed through the empty foyer and out through the open front doors.
The assembled people gasped at his appearance. A few of them cried out in alarm, and several scurried farther away. But Rabbi Eleazar held his ground, as did the three men he’d been speaking to. Gospodin Novák looked nervous, and his companions, who had not seen the golem before, paled.
The sudden silence seemed oppressive. “May I help you, Master?” Emet asked.
Rabbi Eleazar was a small man, but he stood very tall and straight. “Wait beside me,” he commanded. “So you see,” he said to the men. “The golem is still here to protect us.”
Gospodin Novák shook his head. “It cannot fully protect you, Rabbi. I’m telling you—the plague is terrible this year. Children are dying in their mothers’ arms. And the duke spends his evenings gambling, falling deeper into debt. He’s desperate, and the city is desperate too. I’ve seen them collecting weapons and making sure they’re sharp. Leave here, Rabbi. Maybe when the weather warms, people will come to their senses and you can return.”
“And where are we to go?”
“Zilnicza is only a few days’ travel. The Jews there might take you in. Or perhaps Olodetz. They’ve a very fine synagogue—I’ve seen it myself.”
“I’ve seen it as well. But Mala Lubovnya is our home. It always has been. We will not abandon it, not even until spring.”
“Your golem can’t save you all. I saw it lift a cart and withstand a few blows, but it cannot take on an entire city.”
Emet tried to look fierce, but he knew Gospodin Novák was right. His strength was great, but not unlimited.
One of Novák’s companions was a tall man with a thin face. His gray hair was long and straggly where it escaped from beneath his hat. He looked like he’d much rather be seated in a plush chair in front of a fireplace with a glass of wine in hand. “Look here. Have you asked your people what they want? Maybe they have more sense than you.”
Instead of answering, Rabbi Eleazar lifted his arms toward the crowd. “What do you say, good people? Will you flee?”
The people muttered quietly. Then a woman stepped forward. Emet realized she was Jakob’s mother. She planted her hands on her hips and glared. “My husband built my house with his own hands. My sons were born there. I’d rather die than leave it.”
“You may very well get your wish,” said the tall man.
She didn’t back away. Within seconds she was joined by her husband and sons—including Jakob, whose eyes were wild. Other townspeople nodded their agreement. And to everyone’s surprise—including perhaps his own—Jakob marched to Emet’s side. “Emet— The golem has been working at my side for weeks now. I’ve seen what he can do. I trust him. I place my life in his hands.”
